Tuesday, July 21, 2015

The Bamboo Hut, Spring 2015

the aroma
of pungent Persian stars
transports me
to a caravanserai
in the moonlit desert


how still
this numinous dawn
we kneel
watching a muskrat's breath
bubbling under thin ice


a hapless boat
trampled by water kelpies
all souls lost
so many widows waiting
upon every wild shore


spring arrives
one small droplet
at a time
the way everything
takes root in earth


that night
a lightning ball bounced
through the house
scorching mother's linens
and a little girl's dreams


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